


Hand of Brothers

by xWitchAlchemistx



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age-Regression, Brothers, Transformation, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3255146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xWitchAlchemistx/pseuds/xWitchAlchemistx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrion is forced to flee King's Landing, and Jaime gets a taste of freedom. They both get more than they bargained for when a spell reverses their roles. Robb is dead and Theon is broken, until someone sees fit to revive Robb as a direwolf and he wants revenge. Daenerys finds a new dragon, that happens to be her dead brother reborn. As for the other Stark children...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand of Brothers

**To those of you waiting for replies to my other stories, I haven't given up on them. I've been crazy busy. I've seen up to season 4 episode 5 of the Game of Thrones show, and read wikis on Ice and Fire [I really need to read the books]. This story will therefore be mostly show-based, but I'll steal some details from the books as well, such as Jamie's confession to Tyrion. I love odd dynamics and siblings, brothers particularly, but siblings in general. I hope you enjoy these as well!**

**~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~**

Of all the things Tyrion Lannister expected never to do, seeking a Targaryan to serve was right around the top.

He had fled King's Landing under accusations of the murder of Joffrey, but of the two he had murdered that week, Joffrey was not one. It had only been his wretched father and that...that traitorous _whore_ Shae. He might have died himself if not for the intervention of his brother Jaime, but even that was cold comfort. Jaime had confessed to the unthinkable, that Tysha had not been a whore he'd purchased, but simply a woman who his father had made into one. Jaime had lied at Tywin's behest, and crushed Tyrion's heart utterly, then and now. The one person whom he thought would always love him, the only one who ever had, had betrayed him and chose to reveal that betrayal at the most cowardly moment: when he was likely never to see Tyrion again. When it was far too late to save Tysha.

Tyrion had since been the target of many bounty hunters and assassins at his dear older sister's behest. Many children and dwarfs had died, and she wouldn't punish them for fear of deterring the rest. It only cemented his hatred of her, and he was determined to make her suffer one day. A Lannister always paid their debts. As for Jaime, he had contented himself in that hurt moment with claiming to have killed Joffrey and revealing Cersei's infidelity, but it couldn't end there. Jaime had broken his heart. The least Tyrion could do was return the favor.

"Oi, little imp...oi...hey, imp...I'm talkin' to ya!" A drunken sailor sneered as he stirred Tyrion from his thoughts with a fist slammed on the table. Tyrion was headed for a small town he'd heard Daenerys Targaryan had recently been seen, Maroles, and he hoped to catch up to her around there.

But he was stuck with the most dreadful company.

"My name isn't imp, it's Harold," he lied, "If you had called me by my name, perhaps I might have answered. Now, is there something that you needed, or did you simply want to look at my pretty face?"

"Why...you-"

"Land, ho!" shouted another sailor. Tyrion was aware of their impending proximity to land, and sure enough, it distracted the drunken sailor.

It was times like these especially that he missed Bronn, but he didn't begrudge the other for choosing Cersei's offer. Bronn was a sellsword, and he had been most thoroughly bought.

Tyrion didn't bother wearing a deep cloak to hide his face, that would only make him more suspicious. He wore muted clothes and kept to himself as he made his way from the ship and into the town. If he was going to be stopped for being a dwarf, there really was little he could do to stop it, but there were a few things he could do to circumvent the possibility.

His first stop would be the merchant Tairus Lucan. He had a reputation as being a procurer of rare items, and knowledge, and could be relatively trusted given proper incentive. Tyrion would use him to find Daenerys, and use her to gain his revenge.

...

The familiar clanking of metal and rush of air gave Jaime a kind of peace that no other thing on Earth could offer. Only when fighting, only with a sword in hand, did Jaime feel remotely whole again. Even without his right hand, he had managed to make himself formidable again, and the heat of battle offered him comfort. He had obeyed Cersei and ceased the siege of Riverrun, but had ignored her summons later on, and gone his own way following the battle. There was no more Tywin to obey, and Cersei was under trouble of her own, and as for Tommen he had little particular use for Jaime. So it seemed for the moment, that for the first time in...perhaps all of his life, he was free. If only for a moment.

He was loathe for that temporary freedom to end, and had decided to travel where the winds might take him until someone of note recognized him and forced him to return to King's Landing. Which had led to several conflicts along the rode from bandits and the like who mistakenly believed that Jaime would be an easy mark. The fools.

When he finally reached the next town, Maroles, it was called, his pocket held a few more coins and his shoulders seemed just a little lighter. Fights really did soothe him.

Jaime stopped at a tavern for a bite and drink, and then set about exploring the town to see if it was worth a night's rest or held anything of interest. It seemed to be a merchant's city, and sellers hawked their wares all around. It seemed peaceful too, and he thought of King's Landing, which had been rife with the slaughter of children and dwarves at Cersei's blood thirsty behest. Tyrion had claimed to have murdered Joffrey, but he didn't believe that for a minute. And truly, he wasn't as sad as he supposed he should have been. Joffrey had been a damned little tyrant, and it wasn't like Jaime had ever been allowed to be a father to him. If Tyrion had done the deed, he likely couldn't have held a grudge for it, but he doubted that his little brother had done so. As he'd said, he wouldn't kill Jaime's son.

Jaime wondered if that still held true now that Tyrion knew what he had done.

"...Ah, yes, thank you. Much obliged."

Gods, now he was hearing his brother's voice. As if the guilt wasn't bad enough.

But Jaime lifted his head and to his astonishment, caught sight of an all-too familiar and small form heading away and shortly after into an alley. There was no way, absolutely no way, and yet... "Tyrion?" he muttered, and followed after the form. He reached the alley just in time to see 'Tyrion' enter a side door into what appeared likely the entrance of a store. Was it really Tyrion? Of all places?

A part of Jaime wanted to go to him immediately, and was relieved beyond measure that his brother was well.

But another twisted at the thought of seeing him again, seeing the look of hurt and betrayal, and then anger, and...something that looked too much like hate for Jaime to bear. He had held Tyrion little body in his arms, he had cared for the boy his whole life, Tyrion was the one person he felt he had a clean relationship with...Tysha aside...the one person who saw him and forgave him and loved him. And Jaime had betrayed him.

He had to make that right somehow, and saving his life seemed not to have been enough.

If nothing else, Tyrion might need his help, so Jaime headed into the store after him.

It was a small shop up front, with an assortment of odds and ends, but as he headed to the back...he was taken aback when he heard Tyrion's voice speak words he never thought to hear.

"I am looking for Daenerys Targaryan, I have heard you are the one to ask."

"Perhaps...what business do you have with the Mother of Dragons, little man?" The merchant was a thin, reedy man but sharp eyes with an easy smile on his lips.

Tyrion held up a bag of gold coins. "The kind of business I'd pay good money to see done."

"Ah...very good." the man said speculatively. "But you see, I really can't just offer up that kind of information ham-handedly...the Mother of Dragons is no one I wish to cross."

Tyrion sighed. "I thought you might say that. I am Tyrion Lannister, and I will pay you more money to keep that to yourself. I wish to offer my services to the future queen-"

"-You _what_?" Jaime couldn't stop himself, and Tyrion whirled around as the merchant looked up in surprise as Jaime stepped from behind the curtain in the doorway to reveal himself.

"Jaime." Tyrion was taken aback a moment, before his eyes narrowed and his lip curled. "Here to do Cersei's dirty work, then? Took you long enough to find me."

"Her..." Jaime realized he must have meant killing Tyrion. He scoffed as he glared at Tyrion. "You really think that's why I'm here?"

"Can there be another reason for you stalking me half-way across the kingdoms?"

"I wasn't-" The merchant's eyes were speculative as they watched him, and Jaime scowled. "Can we perhaps speak _privately_?"

"So you can privately murder me? No, I'd rather not." Tyrion replied with a mockingly scrunched nose.

"I am not here to murder you, damnit!" There was something about the merchant that set him on edge, but it was the look in Tyrion's eyes and the coldness in his voice that riled Jaime. Tyrion had never treated him that way before. Like he was disgusted by him.

"Oh, so you'll take me back to Cersei so she can do it herself?"

"Tyrion." Jaime growled warningly.

"Jaime." Tyrion mocked back. And they seemed for that instant at least more like bickering brothers than men at odds.

"The Kingslayer." The merchant, Tairus, said in realization. "Jaime Lannister."

Tyrion and Jaime wore similar frowns at that, before Jaime reached down and grabbed Tyrion's arm. "We're leaving, and we're talking, whether you like it or not."

"Let me go!" Tyrion slammed his free hand against Jaime's wrist to no avail.

But no sooner had Jaime turned than he felt a sharp pain against the back of his head as a metal paper weight was slammed against it, and his vision blackened before he even hit the floor.

Tyrion stepped back as his brother fell unconscious to the floor, and he blinked in surprise before he looked up to Tairus.

"You seek the Mother of Dragons? I can help you. And more than that...I can help with him as well." Tairus said cryptically as he motioned for Tyrion to come further in the back.

"I really don't need help handling my brother. But thank you. And thanks for the-you know." he mimed slamming the paper weight.

"Suit yourself, but I would have thought a man in your...position...might have liked the opportunity to change his fate."

"Which is precisely what I intend to do when I find Daenerys Targaryan." Tyrion said slowly, wondering if Tairus had not been the best idea.

"Wouldn't you rather meet her as a man? A whole man?" Tairus gestured up and down at Tyrion, who was confused a moment.

"I am fully equipped, thank you very much-"

"-No, no." Tairus waved a dismissive hand. "Aren't you tired of being an imp? Wouldn't you rather be a _man_?" he gestured again for Tyrion to follow, and the now uncharacteristically silent Tyrion, stared a moment before he headed inside.

...

Blood. And smoke. Fire. A cry. His mother pleading. His wife dying. Blood. So much blood. His unborn child gone. Walder f***ing Frey. Traitor Roose Bolten. Gone. Everything was gone. Everything hurt. Sword. Gone.

Thoughts had been disjointed at first, fragments of feelings and coherent thoughts, and memories that flitted in and out. At first, nothing seemed to make sense and he held vague understanding of himself and what had happened. But it began to grow clearer, and Robb Stark began to remember too well what had happened. He remembered the Red Wedding, and the betrayal that had cost him everything. His army, the war, the kingdom...more importantly, his life, and his mother's, and his wife and child...everything had been stolen from him in an instant.

And he let out a howl of pained rage.

_Howl_.

It occurred to him then that he had howled, and that that was wrong, but moreover...shouldn't he have been dead? What business did he have howling?

Robb cracked open his eyes and was greeted by a too-bright sun and unfamiliar sensations. Things seemed impossibly loud, right down to the crickets chirping that sounded like the beating of drums in his ears. His belly rumbled with hunger, but as he moved his arm, he found it wouldn't work properly. His body felt stiff and his fingers wouldn't flex. When he tried to push himself up, his body wouldn't bend and he squinted against the sun to look down at himself. The sight caused him to pause before he let out another wailing howl.

His body was no longer that of a man's, nearly large enough to be one, but of a very different shape. He was covered in fur, and had paws and a tail, and a long snout that held a mouthful of razor sharp fangs. It was familiar, like that of Grey Wind. Robb Stark was no longer a man, he was a direwolf.

Panic seized him as he thrashed around, unable to fully comprehend his situation. He was dead, he should have been dead, he had been betrayed. So why was he alive? Why was he...why in all the Hells was he a f***ing _direwolf_? It was impossible, _it was impossible_. But there he was. Were the Gods punishing him for breaking his original oath to Walder Frey? But surely Frey's was the greater crime. Was it such a sin that Robb had fallen in love? That he had craved a true family?

" **What have you done to me**?" he shouted at the skies, but it was just another long howl that received no answer.

Robb clawed at himself as best he could manage as he stumbled to his four paws, he tried to rend the fur-covered skin from his bones, he was desperate to be free of the form that felt like a prison. He wasn't an animal, he was Robb Stark, he was King of the North, he was...he was...

Dead.

So what remained? What was he now?

_"Only your blood will know you. Only your blood will see you. Only your blood will hear you. This curse upon you, Stark of Winterfell. Be of your house, in body as well as name, share the flesh you failed to protect. And make right your wrongs. Avenge your name. Avenge your child. Avenge wife and mother. And avenge yourself."_

Words echoed in his mind suddenly, a woman, he thought, but he couldn't guess at an age. It didn't sound familiar, and it seemed like a distant echo in his head. A curse? Who had such power? And why? What was he supposed to do? How could he avenge any thing as he was?

_"Your brothers are the key. Four brothers have ye."_

" **What do you mean? What do you want from me?** " he shouted to the air, although he had a sense that he wasn't really being spoken to. The words had come from his memory somehow. And what did that mean? Four brothers? Jon was all that remained, Bran and Rickon were dead, Sansa and Arya were sisters. " **What do you want of me**...?" And this time, his words came out as a mournful whimper.

Robb's mind flashed in that moment, back to the Red Wedding, back to his wife dying before his eyes with their child, back to his mother's anguished, pleading face, and Frey's filthy, smug one. He thought of himself when he'd heard of his father's beheading. He thought of the murderous Lannisters, and the traitorous Roose Bolten...and Theon.

His confusion melted away, as did his pain it seemed, in the wake of a rising anger. Rage filled him and melded with his grief. Avenge his family? Did it matter his form then? Man or direwolf, if that was to be his purpose...he was only too happy to oblige.

But where to begin? He couldn't very well march on King's Landing as of yet...but there was Winterfell, and Roose Bolten and his bastard Ramsay Snow...he could root the rats from his home for a start.

The Gods wanted him to avenge his family?

So f***Ing be it.

...

"Reek...Reek!"

"Y-Yes, m'lord..."

"My cup is empty..." When Reek didn't reply, Ramsay snapped. "Fill it up!"

The broken man, formerly Theon Greyjoy, stumbled to do as commanded and brought the cup back with shaky hands. WInterfell had been well and truly claimed by the Boltens, and Ramsay held it in his father's absence now that he was legitmized. No more Ramsay Snow for him, he was a Bolten.

"Tell me, Reek...did you miss Winterfell? Did you miss your little friends?"

"F-Friends, m'lord?"

"Oh, you know...the Starks? Like Robb? I mean, he's dead and all, but surely you miss him...a little?"

Reek might have been conflicted by the question once, but Ramsay was pleased to see just how broken he was that he hardly batted an eye at the mention of Robb. "I...I only care for you, m'lord...I only serve you."

"That wasn't quite the question, but that will do, Reek...now get out of my sight, you ugly little creature...I have pressing matters." Ramsay announced as his giggling female companion sidled up beside him, and Reek hurriedly made his exit.

...

"Your grace, another gift-"

"How beautiful!"

"Such fine silks..."

"They do know how to treat their liege."

The bevy of women sent to deliver gifts from various parties in the cities they'd passed oohed and aahed over Daenerys' gifts, but she'd had quite enough.

"That will be all, I thank you."

"But, your grace-"

"That will be all." she said sharply, and the women hastened away.

Jorah smiled faintly from beside her, and she didn't mind his amusement, she was too fond of him for that. "Have you had enough of gifts for the day, Khaleesi?"

"All of their prattling was giving me a headache." Daenerys admitted as she ran a hand over some of the silk. "It is good quality though." she mused.

They had stopped along a host of trading ports on their way to their greater destination, and Daenerys had gained quite a following it seemed. Gifts seemed to keep flowing in, and while she appreciated it [despite being a bit skeptical of the reasons behind them], she had other matters to tend to.

Several hours later found her schedule for the day nearly complete, and she allowed herself a stroll through the gardens of the villa she was staying at. It wasn't sumputous, but it was pretty and offered her a moment's privacy to reflect on the day and the road ahead.

Or so she thought.

"Khaleesi," a woman approached, one Daenerys recognized as head of the female staff for the villa. "Forgive the intrusion, but there is a guest here who seeks an audience with you...he is very persistent."

"I am finished receiving for the day, tell him he may come back tomorrow."

"I did, Khaleesi...but he would not take my answer...he...claims to have a dragon for you."

Daenerys stilled as she gave the woman her full attention. "Come again?"

"He has a cage, and there is indeed something inside. I would have asked Sir Jorah to look it over, only, I found you first, Khaleesi and wished you to know..."

"Where is this visitor?"

"In the main hall, Khaleesi."

"Find Jorah, send him to me at once, I will see to this visitor." Daenerys doubted that he had a dragon, and assumed he was there to take her life.

He would have another thing coming.

Daenerys approached from the side of the hall, behind a silk screen left there just for the purpose of concealing one's arrival. She peered through to see the vague form of a man with a small cage, and she could hear rustling and growling from inside that sounded very much...like a dragon's? Could it be?

Jorah entered then, followed by a host of several men and Barristan.

"State your business." Jorah ordered, a hand on his sword as his men moved beside him.

The man held up his hands. "I came seeking audience with the queen! Do you always greet guests with swords?"

"When they come bearing hidden creatures and refuse to leave when requested, then yes, we do. I am told you have a dragon, remove the cloth and let us see it."

"I will show my wares only to Daenerys Targaryan."

"You do not address her as such, she is your queen." Barristan snapped, and his hand was on his sword as well. "You will remove the cloth, or I will remove your head."

The man hesitated, and seemed miffed, but in the end relented and removed the cloth.

Inside was indeed a small dragon, pure silvery white with violet eyes. It was chained by the neck and claws, and muzzled presumably to prevent it from breathing fire. The dragon seemed in pain, and made another growling noise that Daenerys now realized was a cry.

Jorah, Barristan, and their men seemed taken aback, but Daenerys moved from her hiding spot to approach the man and the dragon.

The man rose and then bowed at once. "Ah! My queen! What a pleasure, you are more beautiful than the rumors claimed! I have brought something I thought might interest you...a dragon...I would sell it to you, if you have interest, your grace."

"I see..." Daenerys kept her composure, but anger flitted beneath the surface at the sight of such a beautiful creature so mistreated. "And how came you by this dragon?"

"Luck, I'd say. Found the little bugger half-drowned and washed up in the sea...soon as I could, I sought you out...being that you are the Mother of Dragons."

"Naturally." Daenerys said simply. "And you wish to sell me this dragon...that you found?"

"Well, well, yes, your grace."

The dragon whimpered from inside the cage, and for the first time, their eyes met directly. She was struck by a feeling of familiarity, and by the apparent recognition that seemed to flash in the dragon's eyes. At once, it began to struggle anew and began to growl and rage inside of the cage as it struggled to get out.

"Pipe down, beast!" The man jabbed inside of the cage with a long knife, and the dragon whimpered again. It had clearly been thus abused before, and Daenerys was angered by that even as she was puzzled by the fact that the knife seemed to hurt it so easily.

"Enough." she snapped, and the man drew to a halt. "You are right, I am Mother of Dragons. And here you stand before me, abusing a creature worth far more than you."

"It is only a beast, your grace." the man protested, before he caught himself. "That is, I apologize, of course it is a majestic beast-ah-creature-...dragon."

"You will leave my sight immediately. Without the dragon." Daenerys said, again simply.

"W-What...I beg your pardon, your grace, but that dragon-"

"-Is your gift to me. In exchange for not throwing you into the dungeons for the disrespect you have shown me and that dragon."

"It is mine!" The man protested.

"No longer." Daenerys said. "See this man escorted out." she ordered, and Jorah and the others moved to comply.

"I"ll get you for this!" The man shouted, and one of the men slammed a fist into his face. He would likely be on his way to a cell for that, if one of her men didn't kill him first.

Daenerys turned her attention to the squirming dragon as she undid the cage latches. "Settle down, easy, boy..." she soothed, and she brushed a gentle hand against the dragon's head. The dragon whimpered and stilled, and allowed Daenerys to remove the bindings.

When the job was finished, it immediately launched forward and all but tackled Daenerys who landed on her rear as the dragon began a flurry of growls and whimpers, and pawed a bit at her.

"Khaleesi!" Jorah had returned, and he loped an arm around the dragon's front and pulled it off and to the side as he moved in front of her with his sword out. "Are you alright?" he asked worriedly, Barristan moved to the other side of the dragon.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, he didn't mean to hurt me." Rather, he had seemed...almost as if he wanted to tell her something. Daenerys rose and met the dragon's gaze again. If she wasn't mistaken...there were tears in its eyes?

"It's alright." she reassured Jorah and Barristan, who stepped back hesitantly as Daenerys took a few steps towards the dragon. The dragon didn't move this time, apparently not eager to be thrown back again, and waited for Daenerys to reach him and set her hand on its head. Only then did she realize she had gotten a small cut from her fall, and a thin drop of blood touched the dragon's head.

She had only enough time to note that before a flash of light erupted from the dragon, and she stepped back in surprise as the dragon's form shifted before her eyes. Wings and scales were replaced along with claws and a tail as he before her eyes the dragon became a small boy, one of no more than eight or nine by her reckoning. One with familiar silver hair and eyes, and features that she knew too well even on a child's face.

"Viserys?" Daenerys breathed, shocked.

The unclothed boy, who looked worse for wear and bore the same wounds his dragon self had, looked down at himself in surprise and joy before he charged at Daenerys and wrapped his arms around her. "It _is_ you, Dany!" he sniffed. "You saved me...but...why are you so big?"

Daenerys looked down at the small form before her, that of her brother, the one she had let die at the hands of her now-dead husband. It was Viserys, she _knew_ it in the core of her being. He was alive, and a child, and here.

And he was a dragon.

...

**Phew. I got a little impatient. Hopefully it's all sensible and not too rushed. XD Okay, so we have Jaime and Tyrion who are about to get a taste of walking in each others' shoes, so to speak. I'm thinking Tyrion will stay small at first, because it'd be cute if they were both small for a time? Or maybe we'll just jump into Jaime being reverted to a child physically and Tyrion gaining a man's body. Thoughts? Robb Stark as a direwolf, who will he run into first? Come on, it's gotta be Theon. I think its a good dynamic. XD And we have Dany and Vis, who will not be a child without his memories forever, don't you worry. And Jon will be in this, and Bran. I had a thought about making Jon a bird somehow, for some reason, and then Bran can talk to Jon and Robb who are both animals which is cute for them too...but I dunno. Definitely will be some JonxBranxRobb bonding though. Thoughts? Reviews are like verbal hugs to my soul and encourage me to write. Enjoy!~**


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